


I Fell in a River

by avelociraptor



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avelociraptor/pseuds/avelociraptor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River and Moriarty have a plan. It's a great plan if they can pull it off. Of course it does help if they know what's actually happening...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Memo

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are property of the BBC.

Moriarty sat behind his desk. Normally, he wasn't much one for desks or sitting, but today was not a normal day. You see, today was the day he would meet River Song, consulting time traveler. He had some pretty important plans to go over with her, plans that had taken much time and brainpower to form. Since it was him and not some ordinary person, that was saying a lot. To anyone else, his plans would have taken years to form and lifetimes to fulfill. But since it was him, well, it took a few weeks. As for the contents of the plans, they were absolutely beautiful, everything he ever wished to accomplish and more. Even with his genius, he only understood about half of them, and the rest was up to River to translate. The plan was centralized around a man called the Doctor. River wasn't very good at sharing information about him, but if even an inkling of what she said was true, then the Doctor would be of great help to them. The way River described him, he sounded so clever and full of himself. Moriarty couldn't wait to break him.

_MEMO_

_To: Jim Moriarty_

_From: River Song_

_Subject: The Doctor_

_Dear Jimmy: This letter is concerning our recent cooperation, which has resulted in a devious plot to take over the universe. I realize that you would enjoy starting to destroy the Doctor immediately, but I must urge you to wait a few months. His scientific knowledge will be vastly helpful to us, and he will eventually put you in touch with a man I believe you'll rather like._

_Until next time, Melody_


	2. The Doctor's Ganger Does the Housework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if anyone knows a lot about squids and is offended by how much I want to feed it. I know less than nothing about squids.

River looked up from her book as a car pulled up in front of her house. House. What a quaint word, so small and beautiful. A better word to describe the structure may have been fortress. With its barbed-wire fences, tall grey walls, and retinal scanners on every lock, it certainly looked like one. Why Jim thought she needed all this, she didn't know. She was clearly capable of defending herself, and anything that would want to kill her could just walk through the front door. But then maybe that was the point, make her look vulnerable and easy so that their enemies would come to them. Anyway, the car. Jim had sent it to pick her up, planning on finally meeting her today. That was a nice thought. Unrealistic, but nice all the same.

Before she went back to reading, she sent him a text. Torchwood. 10 minutes. Go through the visitors' entrance. I sent the coordinates and file to your email. –MP

She called her butler, who looked suspiciously like the Doctor, to her with the flick of a switch. When he arrived, dressed neatly in his suit and black bow tie (it matched the suit better than red), she made a few requests.

"Sweetie, email Mr. Moriarty any information we have about Torchwood. He'll be needing it in, let's see, eight minutes now. After you're done that, make me some tea, feed my squid, and clean the west wing bathroom on the third floor. Any questions? Good, go."

"Yes, River. Okay, River. I'll do that, River," The Ganger Doctor sighed as he went about the tasks she'd assigned him. It wasn't that it was hard working for River; he got a lot of time off, all the chances in the universe to be clever, and so much more sex than the real Doctor ever got from the woman. So overall, it wasn't that bad, it was just… a little too Year-that-Never-was. Her commanding and mood swings when playing with her favorite toy brought him back to that year full of broken things. Broken promises, broken hearts, broken Jack, even broken Doctor at times. Yes, he did not like that aspect of working for River. Unfortunately, he did have to stay and deal with it; otherwise, who would make sure River and some of her more interesting friends didn't get out of hand?

He quickly tapped out the email, feeling a slight guilt at betraying Jack once again. It wasn't the first time River had someone break into Torchwood for her, and it most likely would not be the last.

As he fed the squid, he thought about the Torchwood team. Loyal and simple, they were a bit like the squid. They bumbled around their homes, their only motivations in life food, sex, and Jack. Without their caretaker, they were helpless and weak, but if something threatened them, they still tried to fight back. But River was crueler than Jack. She threatened to eat her pets almost daily, and when she played with them, she played rough.

The squid squealed and crashed into the glass of its tank, jolting the Ganger Doctor back to reality. He'd been so engrossed in his thoughts that his hand had stilled on the lid of the food, leaving the squid impatient and hungry. "Sorry, squid," he muttered, and he poured three cups of dried fish into the tank. "Now eat for your Doctor."

The squid slapped the glass in response and gobbled up its meal. When it had finished, the Doctor walked away to go clean the bathroom, and maybe, just maybe, think of a way to apologize to Jack and stop River's newest plan.


	3. Tish

Sherlock walked down Baker Street, hoping for something to rouse him from his boredom. A murder would be nice, but at this point, most any crime would do. He continued walking, bored. However, he heard a faint squeak and a wheeze. That was slightly less boring. He slowed down and listened, trying to discern the source. It was silent for the longest time, but eventually it happened again. "T….T…Torch…Torch…T…T…T…"

He spun around, for now the voice was coming from behind him. There was a thud and a shout, and then the voice went silent. Sherlock ran into the alley where he'd last heard the voice, and turned the corner just in time to see a car flying towards him. No, literally, flying. Sherlock was speechless for a moment, but that didn't last long. He jumped at the car, seeing how it would be pointless to memorize its details (there are not really that many flying cars), but missed, and it went up over the buildings. Turning his attention to the women lying on the ground, he slapped her awake. Which was not all that nice because she was dying. Let a woman die in peace, will you, Sherlock. Anyway, he not-so-gently woke her up from what would have been her last bloody slumber, intending to ask her some questions. He could tell she was jobless now, but he recognized her from somewhere. The background of Harold Saxon's speeches, yes, that was it. The man who went crazy and killed the president of the United States. Sherlock would love to meet him, but he had disappeared shortly after the murder, never to be heard from again. Too bad. He turned to the woman, who was fading rapidly. As he was about to speak, she said something. It was very faint, but she seemed determined to say it before she died. He leaned closer.

"T…T….Torch…Torchw…Torchwood," she gasped. Having said this she promptly died, leaving Sherlock to wonder about Torchwood. He'd heard of it before; it was some top-secret government agency that dealt with the supernatural. Government. His day was boring no longer, but government meant, in order to investigate this murder, he would have to talk to, ugh, Mycroft.

Now that the woman was safely dead, Sherlock could do a little more investigating. Opening her purse, he dumped its contents on the ground. A pack of cigarettes, a switchblade, an iphone 5, and a wallet tumbled out. Not much, for a woman. No makeup or brush, or any of the other useless things women carry with them. Interesting.

The switchblade and cigarettes screamed abusive boyfriend. The woman herself didn't smoke; her fingers and mouth were clean. The knife showed that she thought about breaking away from her boyfriend, but she could never actually use it. If she planned on defending herself, she would have had a gun. The phone was no surprise; the boyfriend felt guilty after beating her for the millionth time, so he bought her expensive gifts like the iphone and purse.

What caught his interest, however, was the wallet. Opening it, he found her driver's license. Tish Jones. Tish. Where had he heard that name before? He filed the thought away for later and continued with his search.


End file.
